The magicians looked to each other in a moment of confusion.
Katie caught a drift of their stray thoughts.
Scarface said there would be no resistance.
How do we keep the king and his troops away from the island until dawn?
The dragon magic wanes. The dragons have deserted us! Stargods forgive me. The youngest of the magicians went down on his knees, crossing himself repeatedly.
Katie resisted the urge to mimic the gesture. Instead, she watched the shimmer of green power that connected the magicians fade and break apart.
“What breaks our connection to Scarface?” the senior among the magicians asked aloud.
“Nimbulan’s people said that even when the dragons deserted Coronnan last year, they had access to some dragon magic for a while,” one of his fellows replied.
Sensing confusion and weakness among the magicians, the crowd surged forward, pushing Quinnault and Katie to within a few yards of the opposition.
“Fools! Who gave you permission to drop the barrier spell?” Scarface stalked up behind his magicians. “Link up. Protect University Isle from this mob.” His face twisted in anger. The white scar across his brow turned livid, pulsing red.
“Give it up, Master Aaddler,” Quinnault called. “You have no authority to arrest me or anyone—ever.”
“You can’t stop me,” Scarface glared at his king.
“Would you care to argue that with my supporters?”
Scarface stared at the dozens, maybe a hundred people, behind the king and queen. They raised their makeshift weapons, shaking them in direct challenge.
“Come,” Scarface called to his five compatriots. “We will begin now rather than wait for dawn.” He and his magicians backed down the street toward their island.
The crowd became noisy, demanding the end of the Commune’s power. They pressed Katie and Quinnault from behind.
“Now what do we do?” Katie asked, fighting to stay afoot. She clung to Quinnault’s arm. The dozen armed guards did their best to keep the crowd away.
(Start a fire elsewhere,) a dragon answered out of nowhere.
Shayla circled the crowd low enough for all to see. Then she rose above the city, widening her circle. A moment later she opened her mouth, letting loose a roar followed by a continuous stream of flame. Fire touched the tower roof at the University. The tar holding the slates in place ignited. A second blast of flame exploded the timbers below. Slates flew in all directions becoming deadly missiles.
Late afternoon, the docks, Coronnan City
Bessel approached the passenger dock from the direction of the fishermen’s wharf. He’d exchanged his soaked clothes for a different set of fishermen’s togs provided by men who considered him one of them. Raanald and Lady Rosselaara stepped out of a small rowboat within a moment of his arrival.
A dozen boats had been dispatched by royal guards to rescue the passengers from the barge.
“Get me Master Scarface. Now. Bring the interfering bastard here at once!” Raanald shouted above the noise of the curiosity seekers and dock workers.
A dozen or more dogs barked, their excited comments drifting across the bay more clearly than people’s voices.
A nice state of chaos ready for the last ingredient.
A new contingent of palace guards appeared on the embankment above the passenger dock. A couple of magicians hovered behind them, but no Scarface. Bessel moved closer to the center of the wordstorm.
Lady Rosselaara looked straight at him without recognition and turned to one of her mercenaries. “Find me another boat. Row it yourself if you have to, but get me out of this city immediately.”
“Sometimes hiding in plain sight is more effective than the darkest hidey-hole,” Bessel said under his breath as the lady passed him. If she heard, she didn’t deign to acknowledge his comment.
He looked up at the line of palace guards arguing fiercely with Raanald and a contingent of magicians. Behind them, King Kinnsell and Lord Balthazaan added their own tirade. Four other finely dressed men followed them meekly.
More dogs crowded onto the docks, barking incessantly.
The babble rose to an uncomfortable crescendo. Confusion reigned, amplifying frustrations and churning anger. But where was Scarface? He needed to be here so that Nimbulan and the others had time to move the books into hiding.
A dragon bellowed from the skies above them. Everyone on the dock ceased speaking and looking up. Bessel could just make out a shimmering outline in a kaleidoscope of all color/no color.
Two dragons in one day? Something wonderful and strange transpired in the city.
A hush fell over the crowd. One of the magicians took an open posture, head turned up, eyes closed. After a few moments of the stillness needed to gather dragon magic, his face crumpled in disappointment. Then he gathered his companions close. They jabbered among themselves and cowered in fear. They kept shifting their gaze between the dragon and back toward the city where a tall column of smoke rose from the vicinity of the University.
Obviously the Commune was out of favor with the dragons if they could not gather precious dragon magic.
Did the smoke have something to do with that?
Shayla! Bessel here, he hailed her.
(Greetings,) the dragon replied. (Hasten. You are needed. The University burns. The fire will not delay your enemies long.)
Mopsie nudged him, reminding him of his next chore. “Right, boy. We have to make sure Nimbulan doesn’t hide those books permanently.”
He whistled sharply. A dozen fishermen looked at him in recognition, then moved to interrupt Lady Rosselaara’s tirade. In moments, the diplomatic entourage had been escorted back aboard small fishing boats and headed for the port. Each boat boasted an alert moppelwogger in the bow.
“Coronnan is grateful for your departure, madama,” Bessel muttered. “I know I am.”
He left the docks whistling. He had his own path to forge; a new destiny to follow. Freedom rode lightly on his shoulders, a comfortable companion.
The magicians turned and hastened back toward the University. The guards ran to follow, Raanald at their heels, still shaking his fist angrily. Kinnsell smiled and followed them more slowly. He kept up a barrage of insults and complaints to the finely dressed men around him. Lord Balthazaan broke off from him to keep up with the magicians. Kinnsell snagged the lord’s sleeve, shouting at him and raising his fists. They stood squarely in the path of the mercenaries and dock workers who sought to follow.
The pack of unpartnered water dogs seemed to flow around the obstacle. They nipped at heels as they raced toward this new curiosity.
“We can’t delay here any longer, Mopsie. Scarface never showed up. Guess we’ll have to try something else to thwart him.” Bessel slipped quietly into the crowd, just another anonymous figure watching the antics of the powerful and the angry. But he didn’t stay with the throng beyond sight of the docks. As soon as he could, he and Mopsie took off for Palace Isle and the emergency escape tunnels beneath the palace. Mopsie sniffed out shortcuts no human would think to follow.
“Now for the books, pup. We’ve a lot of magic to weave. Together.”
Chapter 49
Near sunset, the streets of Coronnan City
“Scarface ain’t our king. He’s got no right to arrest anyone!” a loud-voiced tradesman bellowed over the noise of city crowd.
Katie squeezed Quinnault’s hand. They shared a moment of triumph as the crowd surged along the city streets following in the wake of the fleeing magicians.
“Long live King Quinnault!” a hundred voices picked up the cheer. “Stargods bless our king.”
She heard a few angry mumbles about ending the tyranny of tax collectors. But mostly the crowd pressed close in order to keep anyone from menacing their king.
They approached Palace Isle, the last major island before Scarface’s refuge on University Isle. Smoke filled the air. Ahead, the now roofless tower continued to burn. Flames shot upward, sendin
g sparks outward in a fountain. Most were extinguished before touching ground or landed in the river.
The crowd increased its speed now that their target was clearly visible.
“Dragons bless us,” a woman called above the crowd noise. “The dragons bless us.” Everyone looked up to the six shimmering outlines that circled the city.
Two dozen more guards swelled the ranks of the throng. In their midst, Katie saw a few familiar but very grimy faces. They all walked heavily as if very tired.
“Myri!” She waved to her friend, signaling her closer.
Old Lyman plowed a passageway through the crowd for the book rescuers. The crowd made way respectfully for the king’s sister and her very dirty entourage.
“Yaala? Is that really you?” Katie grabbed the young woman in a fierce hug. “I’ve missed you terribly.” A dark-haired young man with blond streaks in his thick beard stayed close behind Yaala, not quite daring to approach the queen but seemingly reluctant to let Yaala out of his sight.
“Your Grace, may I present Rollett, Nimbulan’s journeyman, recently freed from Hanassa,” Yaala introduced the young man, reaching to hold his hand.
Katie nodded her acknowledgment of the introduction, trying not to raise her eyebrows at the intimate gesture.
“Is Nimbulan all right? What about my father?” she asked anxiously, searching the crowd for signs of the others. Nimbulan walked beside Myri, holding her hand. He looked tired, but not in pain. Powwell walked beside them, pale and sad but staying proudly beside his adoptive parents. Luucian was there, too, keeping an eye on Nimbulan and Powwell.
“Where is King Kinnsell?” Katie demanded.
“With Lord Balthazaan,” Myri explained. “He’ll join us later.”
Just then a pack of dogs began barking nearby. They raced forward to University Isle from an adjacent island. Another throng of people, led by Raanald the bay pilot, came into view. The dogs wove in and out of the crowd yapping louder and louder to be heard above the angry shouts. Raanald kicked at a dog to get it out of the way. Kinnsell yanked the man off balance and shouted something unintelligible. Lord Balthazaan and a few of his cronies hovered behind Katie’s father, looking confused.
“It’s useless to talk here.” Quinnault shook his head as Katie tried to call to her father. “We’ll get the whole story later. Right now, we have to stop Scarface.”
And then they faced University Isle. Scarface stood in the center of the courtyard holding a torch aloft. Before him lay a mound of books. Master magicians threw more books out the windows of the adjacent library.
The dogs swarmed over the bridge, baying at the sight of Scarface. They circled him, growling and yapping.
He thrust his torch at them, keeping them at bay.
The dogs backed away, still snarling.
“Hear me, people of Coronnan!” Scarface called. He circled the torch at the dogs, trying to break through their numbers to get to the books. The dogs shifted position, circling but keeping Scarface from his objective.
Finnally one of the dockmen whistled sharply. The dogs backed off.
“Hear me, people of Coronnan!” Scarface repeated.
This time Katie sensed magic behind his words, not a compulsion, but the power to be heard and understood in the farthest reaches of the noisy crowd.
“People of Coronnan, these books harbor evil knowledge. Knowledge of the blood magic and Rovers that brought this land low for three generations of warfare. The books must be purged so that no one can use this knowledge against you ever again.”
Murmurs of disquiet rippled through the crowd. They pushed forward to hear more.
Katie found herself and her friends at the edge of the paved courtyard without realizing how rapidly she had been carried forward.
“Stargods, he’s going to make the people believe in his madness,” Quinnault muttered.
Scarface lowered his torch.
“Who are you to decide what knowledge is evil, which books must be destroyed?” Quinnault screamed.
Scarface hesitated.
“I forbid you to burn any books, Master Aadler,” Quinnault said on a calmer note. “I have already dismissed you as my adviser. You cannot be trusted to be impartial.”
The magicians gathered around the University courtyard paused to listen. The lords who had gathered behind the magicians looked to Quinnault in puzzlement.
“The art of reading has been forbidden to all but magicians since the coming of the Stargods,” Scarface intoned, raising his torch high above his head. “Who else but the Senior Magician can make this decision?” The flickering light cast him in a halo of fire-green light—very close to his signature color of magic.
The crowd of mundane and magician onlookers gasped at the image of sacred blessing he invoked.
“The three brothers who descended upon a cloud of silver flame entrusted a few select, talented people with the forbidden knowledge within these books. As magicians, we carry out that trust by knowing why this knowledge is forbidden to all but us and preventing its use for evil. Rogue magicians who have forsaken the wisdom of the Stargods for personal glory have used it against the good of the common people and the kingdom. We, the guardians of knowledge, decree that the books must be destroyed before more evil is perpetrated by those who refuse the controls of dragon magic and the Commune.”
We cannot stop him, Katie moaned to Quinnault. He doesn’t need compulsion anymore. These people will follow him anywhere.
“How much of our history, philosophy, and law will be lost with those books? That information is as valuable as magic. You can’t destroy all of the books just because they might contain information you deem evil,” Quinnault protested, as loud and compelling as Scarface’s diatribe.
“I can and I will.” Scarface lowered his torch to ignite the first books.
“You can’t ruin the Commune. I won’t let you.” A ghostly figure in white trews and yellow shirt launched himself from the edge of the crowd onto Scarface. The two men rolled to the ground. The torch flew out of Scarface’s hand onto the paving stone. Silently it rolled toward the books.
“Bessel. The torch!” Powwell bellowed.
“I saw him earlier in the tunnels. He helped move books, but he did it secretly,” Yaala added in a quieter tone. “He said he had to disappear. He said . . .”
Rollett dove across the mound of books and grabbed the torch. He thudded into the pavement. Yaala gasped and held her hand to her throat until Rollett rolled to his feet, the torch held away from the precious books.
Beside him Bessel jumped to his feet and disappeared into the shadows. Scarface lay panting where he had fallen.
“Bessel looks more like a ghost than a man,” Katie whispered.
“Bessel told me not to believe rumors of his death,” Powwell said. He turned a weak smile on his companions.
“Has anyone noticed some of the books disappearing from the mound? He’s still helping, but I doubt we’ll see him do it. Maybe he is a ghost now.” He whispered the last.
“Give it up, Scarface. The dragons burned your tower,” Quinnault countered. “Surely, if Shayla seeks to destroy your workplace, then she withdraws her covenant and her blessing from you.”
“The priests agree with Scarface,” Lord Balthazaan shouted above the hushed whispers of the crowd. “He has the blessing of the Stargods to burn these books. I count the Stargods above a murdering dragon any day. Dragons are monsters to be avoided. We can’t trust them.” The lord clenched his fist and shook it at the skies where the dragons had flown. His fingers looked naked, devoid of the heavy rings he and his wife habitually wore.
A sudden image splashed in front of Katie’s vision. Balthazaan should wear a silver ring of entwined strands on his left hand. His wife wore an identical one—the hereditary betrothal bands of their family. One of those two rings had been left in Marilell’s crib. The baby had almost choked to death on a ring normally worn by this lord.
Her father might have prompted the att
empted kidnapping of her baby, but this man executed the orders—or tried to.
She flashed the information to Quinnault. He reeled under the impact. How do we prove it? Quinnault asked her. Anger stained his cheeks red.
I don’t know that we can. Balthazaan will side with anyone who opposes you. He will claim our accusations are merely persecution because of his opposition to your politics, Katie thought.
I thought your father tamed him.
My father has his own agenda. Who knows what thoughts and innuendos he planted in that man’s mind. We only asked him to keep the lords out of the way while Nimbulan and his friends rescued a few of the books. Now he’s disappeared again.
“Balthazaan.” Quinnault gathered himself to speak. “Without the dragons, we cannot fight rogue magic. Do you wish to return to the days of civil war when Battlemages led warlords into battle after battle for no reason other than to prove their superiority over another Battlemage?”
Balthazaan reared back as if he’d been slapped.
“By your own argument, King Quinnault, the books must be burned. They contain knowledge of rogue magic. Once they are destroyed, no one will know how to work any magic but that given us by dragons.” The Senior Magician dragged himself to his feet. He kept his eyes on the torch Rollett still held out of his reach.
“Master Aaddler,” Katie called aloud. “If other lands with Battlemages who use solitary magic attack us, overtly or covertly, how will we know how to counter them unless we have access to the same knowledge they possess?”
“That cannot happen!” Scarface screamed. His scar whitened, and he scrunched up his eyes, making an ugly mask of his face. “There will be no more rogue magic. I cannot allow any more rogue magic!” Scarface raised his hands to the skies and brought forth a huge ball of witchfire. As suddenly as the flames appeared, he launched them into the middle of the mound of books. They exploded in flame.
Wind-drift and Whitehands lunged for him, knocking him back to the pavement once more. The two magicians slammed their fists into Scarface’s jaw alternately, repeatedly.
Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III Page 40
